


Back in the Swing of Things

by yeahloads



Series: look at everything we've grown [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Beta Jeff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Omega Harry, Post Mpreg, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 21:05:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16584176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeahloads/pseuds/yeahloads
Summary: Panting, Jeff says, “I can come like this if you want.”Harry tilts his head but doesn’t stop moving his hands. “Or?” he asks.Jeff licks his lips. “Or,” he pauses on a soft moan, “Or, I was thinking maybe we could like. Have sex. The real kind.”





	Back in the Swing of Things

**Author's Note:**

> First time post-babies penetrative sex! Probably the most explicit a/b/o installment of the entire verse so far. Thank you to Madelyn for beta'ing ♥
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr @ harryseyebrows (:

Harry literally slides into the kitchen.

He’s wearing nothing but tall white socks and a big t-shirt that could pass as a dress, found somewhere in the depths of the master bedroom closet with an unknown origin.

But that’s not what’s important to him right now. What’s important is that he’s feeling breezy and chipper, skidding to a halt on the tile floor next to Jeff and only wobbling precariously for a second while he catches his balance before he’s jumping and attaching himself to Jeff’s back.

“Jeffrey, I don’t know if you were previously aware or not but we have the house to _ourselves_.”

Jeff snorts and Harry can feel the way his ribs contract from where he has his legs around Jeff’s waist. “Yeah I kinda clocked that when my mom came and picked them up. And the house is like, spooky quiet.”

“I _know_. Is it bad that I miss them a little bit already?”

“It’s only been a half hour, you weirdo.”

Harry wraps his arms tighter around Jeff’s shoulders and nips at his neck, barely grazing with his teeth. “What, you don’t?”

“Of course I do. But I’m not gonna _admit it_ like some sad sap. Unlike _someone_.”

“Asshole.”

Jeff shifts his weight, but he doesn’t show any signs of struggle holding Harry up like this. “Am I gonna have to finish dinner with you hanging off me like a nuisance?”

“You absolutely are,” Harry says in direct contrast with his actions as he hops back down to the floor. “Can I make myself useful at all?” he asks, eyeing the contents spread out on the counter. Before he interrupted him, Jeff was in the middle of cubing potatoes.

“If you want to get the green beans out that would be—” Jeff turns around and gives Harry a onceover, brows furrowing. “Are you wearing pants?”

The corners of Harry’s mouth turn up. “Nope.” He twirls to swish the bottom hem of his shirt, the fabric only reaching about mid-thigh.

Jeff doesn’t say anything, just makes a humming sound and continues cutting, but Harry doesn’t fail to notice the new heat behind his gaze before he looks away.

Pleased with himself, Harry does as requested, pulling the container of green beans out of the fridge and shuffling over to the sink to give them a quick rinse.

It feels nice to be doing this again. The small act of preparing a meal together is simple in its comfort, almost ritualistic. They haven’t had much time for it lately, opting for takeout more than either of them would like to admit, or settling on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches after a long day of baby wrangling, work, or a combination of both, usually too tired to put any effort into actually cooking.

This is only the third time they’ve spent a night without the boys since they were born, and although it’s still new and always a little weird for the first few hours, Harry feels significantly more comfortable now, well on his way to fully enjoying an evening that’s harboring the promise of a nice meal, some time with his partner, and a full night’s sleep. Maybe they’ll even sleep in tomorrow morning. Get _really_ wild.

They retire to the living room for a quick break while the chicken bakes in the oven, all the veggies prepped and ready to be cooked when the chicken is closer to being done. Jeff only complains once about Harry’s bare ass on the couch, but still gets in a few pinches of said ass so Harry takes it with a grain of salt.

Dinner itself is lovely. There’s something to be said about a nice, warm, home-cooked meal, so Harry really lets himself savor all of the lemon and garlic and rosemary flavors, the perfectly buttered potatoes, and the chicken that’s delicious and tender. They chatter amicably, about anything and nothing, letting the sound of _Rumours_ fill the gaps as it filters in from the stereo speakers.

By the time they’re clearing their near-empty plates, running them under the faucet before depositing them in the dishwasher, Harry’s belly feels rounded and full. He’s lost a lot of the baby weight already — or at least most of the distendedness of his stomach has gone down — but for the time being, he looks like he could easily be four months along again, like when he had just started to show.

He says as much to Jeff, who looks weary for a moment. “Please don’t tell me you’re hinting at something.”

Harry scoffs. “ _No_ , I wasn’t, actually. But now I’m kinda offended.”

“Jesus, I didn’t mean it like _that_. I was just trying to say that— I think we should wait before we have another one. _If_ we want another one.”

Shrugging noncommittally to hide the little flutter his heart gives, Harry starts to walk towards their bedroom, calling over his shoulder. “You squeeze out two kids and then get back to me on this _more_ business.” He’s bluffing, obviously. Jeff knows where Harry really stands on this, but that’s a different conversation for a different day.

The sheets on the bed are fresh and clean, and Harry is loathe to get into them while smelling like garlic and faintly of baby puke from when Jude decided to grace him with a parting gift earlier.

“Do you need to shower?” Harry asks.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll probably hop in quick. Why?”

“Because I want to take one, too. Do you want to go first or can I?”

Jeff levels him with a look, but he can’t keep a straight face for long, dissolving into a dirty smirk and waggling eyebrows.

“You know,” he says, stepping up close to Harry and toying with his t-shirt-dress and lifting the hem without breaking eye contact. “There’s an obvious solution here.”

Harry folds his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised, making sure to keep his voice as unimpressed as possible. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. We could shower together. Save some water. Help the environment. All that good stuff.”

“Mm, yes. I’m sure your intentions are solely altruistic.” He twirls out of Jeff’s reach and into the bathroom, already sliding his socks off and tossing them into the hamper. “Listen, as long as we’re only washing up, I’m okay with it, but the last time we tried something in the shower I almost broke my femur.”

“That was because you knocked over the shampoo and tried to stick your leg up on the ledge when I _told you_ it was too high.”

“I’m pretty sure the neighbors heard the thud when I slipped and fell on my ass, Jeff.”

Jeff smiles, unable to hold back his laughter. “That bruise was nasty. Didn’t it last for, like, three weeks or something crazy?”

“Yeah, and it made it hard to walk so it’s not something I’m planning on repeating, thank you very much.”

Raising his hands in surrender, Jeff says, “All right, all right. Settle down. Just bathing. Strict no fun zone.”

Harry already has the shower on and is standing under the spray when Jeff finally strips completely down and joins him. The stall isn’t really meant to fit two people, so they have to stand quite close, and even though the last time was a disaster that almost resulted in a trip to the ER, Harry somehow remembers it being a little sexier than this. Currently, Harry finds himself feeling quite chilly when Jeff pushes him over so he can wash his own hair. In retaliation, Harry flicks him on the shoulder.

After rinsing his face clean from suds, Jeff asks, “What?”

“I’m cold.” Harry wraps his arms around himself, faking a shiver for emphasis.

“Big baby. C’mere,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. He pulls Harry in with a hand on his waist, forcing him to shuffle over so they’re practically plastered together from ankle to forehead.

It actually doesn’t do much to help the situation. The showerhead’s spray radius only extends so far and it _just_ manages to hit Harry’s back and part of Jeff’s shoulders. He doesn’t complain, though. Especially not when Jeff grabs the bodywash and starts lathering Harry up, being thorough as ever and smirking the entire time, even as he gets water in his eye.

“Having fun?” Harry asks, dutifully raising his arms so Jeff can wash under them, only wiggling a bit when he hits his ticklish spots.

“I am, actually. You’re being very cooperative.”

“Don’t act so surprised.”

“The boys get it from you. And before you take it as a compliment I’m talking about how they only behave when they want to.” There’s no heat behind his words.

Harry doesn’t argue.

Jeff’s hands eventually start to drift lower, changing paths quickly and erratically, the glide of his fingers being eased by the citrusy soap he’s using. Just when Harry thinks that Jeff is going to commit and touch him between his legs, he skirts away again. Between the warmth of the water and Jeff’s ministrations, Harry is well on his way to being aroused, and the teasing is only adding to it.

There’s no rush, though. They don’t have to worry about the boys or keeping things quiet and timely. They have all night. Harry _can_ be patient, but it doesn’t necessarily mean he wants to be. However, there’s a very pressing matter at hand that he can’t ignore any longer.

Jeff is mid-ass grab when Harry stops him, putting some distance between their bodies.

“I hate to interrupt you but I have to pee.”

Jeff gives him an unbothered look. “Okay.”

“Can you move so I can get out, please?”

Jeff’s eyebrows furrow. “Why get out? Just go. There’s a perfectly good drain right there.”

“Excuse me?”

“What? You don’t pee in the shower?”

“ _Oh my god_. Yeah. I mean— no. I _do_.” Harry silently thanks the steam and water temperature for hiding the flush he’s certainly sporting.

“I’m really failing to see what the problem is here,” Jeff says. He’s started to soap himself up, being far more quick and perfunctory than he was when he washed Harry.

Harry sighs. “Fine.”

Jeff doesn’t move, so Harry has to do a bit of… angling, but finds himself unable to go.

There’s a particularly interesting spot on the shower wall that he investigates, simply standing there awkwardly holding his dick. Meanwhile, Jeff is washing his own chest, whistling softly and totally oblivious.

After a few moments, Harry asks, “Can you turn around?”

Jeff doesn’t even glance at him. “Why? It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

Harry sighs again, this time louder. “You’re insufferable.” At the same time, though, his bladder finally cooperates. But he can’t even fully enjoy relieving himself because Jeff lets out an undignified squawk and hops over to the other end of the shower.

“Hey! Watch the feet, kid.” Jeff says.

“That’s what you get.”

The rest of their shower is mostly uneventful. They both dry off quickly, Harry making sure that he and Jeff moisturize properly, slathering some leave-in conditioner over both of their heads for good measure.

Aside from different deodorants, they both pretty much smell the same when they’re done, not bothering with clothes as they slide under the covers in a tangle of fresh, orange blossom-scented skin.

Apropos of nothing, Jeff starts laughing, puffs of breath tickling Harry where his face is turned into his shoulder.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asks.

“Look at the time.”

Harry checks his alarm clock on the bedside table. 7:30 PM, it reads.

“Wow. We’re, like, really a pair of grandmas. Should we go out and buy some orthopedic shoes?”

“I think so. I feel like we need to go out and… do something. I don’t know. Go to a bar? Have a vokda-Red Bull, or three? Is that what the youth do these days? I can’t remember. Time… it escapes me in my old age.”

Harry’s chest shakes with the force of his laughter. “In bed before eight when we don’t even have the kids. _Pathetic_.”

“Wanna put on a movie or something? I’ll even treat you to one that we have to pay to rent.”

“How generous of you,” Harry says.

They flip through the channels for a few minutes, but nothing good seems to be on, even on the premium ones. So they browse some new titles On Demand but find themselves arguing over whether they should watch a horror movie that got released recently, or the new Rachel McAdams flick.

“Jeff, c’mon. It’s getting dark outside. I don’t wanna watch that,” Harry whines.

“It probably isn’t even that scary. Look, it only has a PG-thirteen rating. It can’t be that bad.”

Harry doesn’t even want to look at the cover picture, if he’s honest. Too much blood and people with weird, pointy fingers. He’ll watch scary movies if he has to, but after the last one he watched a couple months ago, he slept like shit for a whole week.

“Jeffrey, please.”

Jeff sighs in defeat. He hesitates, finger hovering over the remote button, before relenting and putting on Harry’s choice.

Satisfied with the turn of events, Harry cuddles up to him, getting snuggly under the blankets and wrapping an arm around Jeff’s waist.

About ten minutes in, though, Jeff gets shifty. He keeps letting out these long-suffering breaths like he’s being tortured instead of watching a harmless romcom.

“What’s the matter?” Harry asks.

“This movie sucks,” Jeff blurts.

Harry laughs. “ _I_ like it.”

Jeff digs his fingers into Harry’s ribs and makes him squirm. “Yeah, because you’re a sucker for this mushy shit.”

Breathless, Harry says, “Stop— _stop that_.” He manages to grab Jeff’s wrist and stop the assault. “I do like this _mushy shit_. It’s cute and it won’t make me afraid to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.”

“Didn’t you see this movie in theaters, anyway? Like, a few weeks ago?”

“...Yeah.”

“Then why are we watching it? You already know what’s gonna happen!”

“That’s _why_ we’re watching it. Because it’s a safe bet and I don’t like unpredictability in films, Jeff. You know I always Google the plot when we watch something new.”

“Because you’re a heathen.”

Harry has had enough. He retaliates. Quickly, he swings a leg over Jeff’s hips so he can effectively pin him down and try to start tickling under his arms.

Jeff is fast but doesn’t react fast enough to stop Harry, who manages to wiggle his fingers under Jeff’s arms even though they’re clamped down and prepared. Harry revels in the undignified yelp Jeff lets out, just barely resisting the urge to let out an evil cackle.

His victory is short-lived, though. He got cocky, careless. Jeff tips him easily and then Harry finds himself at Jeff’s mercy.

They’re both smiling like idiots, out of breath because they could probably stand to go to the gym more, but it doesn’t matter. Jeff has a goal — Harry can see it in the glint of his eyes. He’s crafty and tactful when he wants to be. So Harry is expecting Jeff to go for the crook of his neck, one of his hands steadily creeping towards it, but Harry is genuinely surprised when Jeff actually goes for his sides.

Harry is a goner. He doesn’t know how this got flipped around on him so quickly. He can barely breathe, wheezing with laughter as Jeff doesn’t give him a moment of reprieve. Harry kicks wildly, throws elbows, does whatever he can to get it to stop.

It isn’t until Harry literally yells, “Stop! _Truce_ , truce!” that Jeff finally relents.

They take a moment to catch their breath, but both suddenly freeze when Jeff adjusts his leg; his thigh brushes against Harry’s hard dick and it makes him suck in a harsh breath.

With burning cheeks, Harry mumbles, “Oh.”

Jeff smiles like the cat that got the cream. “ _Oh_ indeed.”

“Don’t be weird.” Harry rolls his eyes, but he can’t conceal his own smile. Jeff is ridiculous. They’re both ridiculous. _This whole situation_ is ridiculous.

“Listen, the only one being weird is you popping a boner from being _tickled_.”

Harry scoffs. He reaches between them in search of Jeff’s dick and is rewarded when he wraps a hand around him and discovers that he’s sporting a semi.

“Hm. A bit hypocritical of you, don’t you think?”

“I— listen. We were fooling around, I had you underneath me, _naked_ , and _wiggling_. And then I see that you’re turned on. Cut me some slack here.”

“Stop being mean to me, then.”

Jeff palms Harry’s shaft and it makes his breath catch in his throat. “See?” Jeff says. “I’m not being mean.”

“Fine,” Harry practically grunts.

The warmth in Harry’s lower belly continues to build as Jeff rubs him, seemingly content to not take Harry fully in hand. Harry doesn’t mind. Give him a few more minutes and he could come just like this, with Jeff leaning over him, keeping him safe and boxed in with a forearm braced next to Harry’s head, the warm soft sheets under him, Jeff thumbing the sensitive ridge under the head over Harry’s foreskin.

But then the warmth recedes and Harry is blinking his eyes open slowly, unaware that he even closed them. “Hm?” Harry murmurs.

Jeff grins wickedly and grabs one of Harry’s legs, pushing it up to his chest.

 _Oh_. Harry likes where this is going. He tracks the movement of Jeff’s hand, the one that’s slowly making its way down until it’s out of Harry’s line of sight. Jeff’s other hand is wrapped around his ankle now, and Harry worries briefly for a second that he hasn’t been the best about keeping up with yoga lately, and that if Jeff has ambitious plans involving Harry’s flexibility he might be left disappointed and acting as an impromptu masseuse instead—

Harry’s toes curl faster than he can blink as he sucks in a quick breath, his leg jerking back in Jeff’s grip. Because Jeff is _tickling_ the sole of his foot.

An involuntary laugh bubbles up and out of Harry’s throat. He tries to push at Jeff’s shoulders, but his stomach feels weak, all of his limbs seemingly useless. Scrambling on the sheets, he uses his free leg to wrap around Jeff’s waist and attempts to pull him towards him, but Jeff keeps tickling him and all of Harry’s strength leaves him in a rush.

“Jeff,” Harry breathlessly manages to say. “What are you — _doing_?”

“What? Don’t you like this?”

“No,” Harry says mid-cackle.

“No? Seems to me that you like it just fine.”

It’s true. Harry’s cock is flushed deep red and resting against his belly, smearing wet into the fine trail of hair under his belly button as he moves. If anything, he’s even harder than he was before. He can’t help it; it’s a confusing sensation, one that his brain evidently can’t make sense of. It’s mildly unpleasant because it’s almost _too_ pleasant. His squirming isn’t doing much to help, either, aside from making him hotter from all the friction.

Sweat is starting to break out near his hairline, chest still heaving while he laughs and struggles to get a decent breath in. He realizes belatedly that the sounds he keeps letting escape him sound close enough to sex noises that the expression on Jeff’s face need not be explained.

With one final thrash, Jeff finally stops, kissing Harry’s ankle almost reverently. “God,” he says. “You are _such_ a little weirdo.”

Harry’s cheeks feel like they could fry an egg. “And yet, you’re still with me.”

“Only because you know how to fold fitted sheets the nice way.”

“Flatterer.”

Jeff gently lowers Harry’s foot back to the bed and leans down, kissing him squarely on the mouth. Harry moans sweetly for a second but wastes no time; now that he’s fully in control of himself again, he wraps himself around Jeff and, despite his tiredness, gets him on his back in a move that he’s quite proud of.

Stunned and excited, Jeff stares up at him with wide eyes and a grin. Harry straightens his back so he’s up nice and straight, thighs on either side of Jeff’s hips, bum just below his groin. Being seated like this always makes Harry feel extra powerful. He likes it on his back or on his hands and knees well enough, but there’s something about being on top that he really loves.

He isn’t entirely sure what he’d do with total control — it’s taken him years to really get to know himself, or at the very least be okay with what he knows — and he would like to think he’s fairly confident that being one-hundred percent in charge isn’t something he’d enjoy. He loves knowing that Jeff and him are on equal ground, no matter who might be running the show at any given second. That he isn’t just a plaything that’s only worth what his body can do and what it can offer someone, and in turn knowing that he’d never treat another person like that. But that isn’t to say that Harry doesn’t enjoy grabbing Jeff’s wrists and playfully pinning them above his head when he starts to get handsy.

“I think you’ve done enough touching for a bit.”

“Okay,” Jeff says agreeably.

Harry starts to mouth at Jeff’s neck, and the resulting angle shift means that their cocks brush up against each other. It makes Harry whimper and Jeff makes a noise like he’s just stubbed his toe, both of them giggling softly at each other while Harry grinds down more purposefully, their laughter tapering off into more sounds of pleasure.

It’s easy to get lost in it, the easy back-and-forth of pushing his hips forward and dragging them back, creating mind-melting friction that’s only eased slightly by the mix of precome between them. Harry mostly keeps control of the kiss, but it’s an intricate dance of passing the lead off every few seconds, and then it’s Jeff’s turn to suck on Harry’s tongue how he likes, or pull his bottom lip into his mouth. Harry gives as good as he gets, but he stays soft, yielding.

Then there are hands in his hair and Harry pauses, the separation of their mouths making a wet sound.

Harry shakes his head. “No touching.”

Like a puppy being told ‘no’, Jeff slowly puts his arms back where they should be, a new type of heat in his eyes.

Harry kisses him on the mouth again and punctuates it with a nip on his jaw. He keeps travelling lower, paying attention to the spots that maybe don’t get the attention they deserve; the hollows of Jeff’s collarbones, the freckled tops of his shoulders, the soft skin over his ribs. With his lips and tongue Harry says, _I love this bit and this bit and this bit_.

Jeff is vocal about how much he enjoys it, humming his approval, moaning from low in his throat when Harry breathes hotly over his navel, just a hair’s width away from the tip of his cock. He keeps his hands on the pillow the entire time. Harry smiles softly into his hip.

As much as Harry loves blowing him, he really just isn’t in the mood. So he sits back on Jeff’s thighs and makes a show of licking his palm, making sure it’s nice and wet. He starts jerking Jeff off properly, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.

He’s warm in Harry’s palm, twitching slightly at the initial contact. Harry pushes his fingers through the dark hair at the base with his free hand, thumbs over his sac, and even dares to slide his middle finger back, teasing briefly between his cheeks.

“Fuck,” Jeff groans.

Harry’s eyes flick back up to his face, noting his red cheeks and near-slack mouth. Without really asking, Harry raises his eyebrows in question.

“Yeah,” Jeff says.

Harry lights up, the corners of his mouth lifting. “Yeah?”

Jeff lifts his thighs slightly for emphasis, making Harry tip forward a bit. Harry takes the hint and slides off him for a second, only to nudge Jeff’s legs apart and return to his spot, this time with Jeff’s thighs draped over his.

The bottle of lube hits Harry on the wrist when Jeff tosses it to him. They both snicker, a momentary reprieve in intensity.

Scratching lightly over the hair on Jeff’s thigh, Harry asks, “Are your arms okay?”

“Peachy.” Jeff smiles.

“Okay.”

Harry flips the lid on the cap and slicks his fingers, making sure they’re warm before he returns to his previous task.

They don’t do this very often — not that they consciously avoid it — because even when they do have the time, Harry is usually more than happy to be on the receiving end. Jeff likes fucking Harry, whether it’s with his fingers or a toy or his cock. But in the same way they deeply value equality, reciprocity is important to them, too.

And Harry just really enjoys the way Jeff turns whimpery and shivery when Harry gets his fingers in him.

He starts with just one, moving slow to let him adjust, while he picks up his cock again and starts a slow pace to match. Jeff is warm and tight, but not tense, so Harry keeps his movements steady and careful until he finally manages to get up to the first knuckle.

Jeff’s cock is flushed a deep pink, shining with the lube that’s covering it, making faint _snick snick_ sounds while Harry strokes him. Harry keeps things mostly concentrated over the shaft, saving special twists and tugs over the head for when he feels inclined, completely at random but not too close together.

“Good?” Harry asks, simply to check in.

Jeff’s breathing is labored. He grunts when Harry crooks his finger. “ _Good_. Great. Wonderful.”

Harry rewards him him with a thumb rubbing over the sensitive frenulum right under the head of his dick. It makes Jeff squirm.

Harry keeps stroking him and eventually adds a second finger into the mix, making sure there’s plenty of lube involved for both Jeff’s dick and hole, turning everything into a slippery but wonderful mess. He can feel Jeff clenching around his knuckles, making his fingers squeeze together, and he can see the way Jeff’s stomach keeps tensing and releasing. His hips keep juddering between pushing his cock up and into Harry’s fist and rocking down onto his fingers.

Panting, Jeff says, “I can come like this if you want.”

Harry tilts his head but doesn’t stop moving his hands. “Or?” he asks.

Jeff licks his lips. “Or,” he pauses on a soft moan, “Or, I was thinking maybe we could like. Have sex. The real kind.”

Harry pointedly curls his fingers upwards and smirks at the way Jeff gasps. “What if I just want this?” Harry doesn’t mention the fact that his own cock is nearly purple and would very much like to be touched again at some point.

“That’s fine,” Jeff says.

“What if I wanted to fuck you?” Harry’s cheeks heat as soon as he says it. He’s fine with dirty talk, but it seems that whenever Jeff is spewing filth, Harry is content to just follow along with ‘yeah’s and ‘okay’s. It’s different being the one to initiate for a change. The words almost feel clunky coming out of his mouth.

“That’s fine, too.”

Harry considers him for a moment, slowing down the motion of his wrist and keeping his fingers still. Quietly, he asks, “What if I want you to fuck _me_?”

Jeff swallows and shifts slightly. “Yeah I — yeah. That works. I would… love that.”

Harry withdraws his fingers and wipes them on the sheet. With one final stroke, he settles Jeff’s cock on his stomach in favor of tracing over one of his nipples.

With the bottle of lube now in hand, Jeff wiggles it in-air. “Want me to…?”

Harry shakes his head. “Just wanna kiss you for a bit.”

What Harry isn’t saying is that he can feel the very beginnings of himself starting to get wet. He just had his first heat since the boys were born a couple of weeks ago, and while it was mostly lackluster and uncomfortable, it was nice knowing that his body was starting to get back on track. Getting wet isn’t very common outside of heats, so he’s pleasantly surprised and thinks Jeff will be too.

They pick up essentially where they left off, with Harry straddling Jeff’s waist, mouths moving together in familiar tandem. Despite earlier rules, Jeff isn’t shy about touching Harry now, focusing the attention of his palms and fingers over anywhere he can reach, sliding over Harry’s ribs, his chest, his belly. It makes Harry’s skin break out in goosebumps, the tiny hairs all over his body standing up.

Without realizing, Harry starts pressing his cock into the groove of Jeff’s hip, tiny little thrusting motions that aren’t even enough to slide his foreskin back. Jeff notices, though. He gets Harry’s ass in both hands and pulls him down with purpose, squeezing his skin and moving him back and forth.

Harry has to pull away to gasp into the skin of his neck, voice catching on a strangled whimper. He can feels Jeff’s fingers creeping inwards slowly and the anticipation has Harry’s stomach doing flips. It takes Harry great effort to lift his head to kiss Jeff again, slipping him his tongue, letting it graze the roof of his mouth. Just then Jeff fleetingly brushes a single finger over where Harry wants him most.

“Mmph,” Jeff hums against Harry’s lips, rubbing over Harry’s hole more carefully. “Are you…” He sounds breathless, a hint of awe in his voice.

Harry nods, unable to verbally agree. He thinks that if he tried to actually speak right now, gibberish would come out. Jeff touching him is very distracting, the way he’s stealthily added a second finger, the two of them circling the wetness that’s sluggishly leaking out of him and spreading it around, sliding it up and down the cleft of his ass, not dipping in but putting gentle pressure against his hole.

He’s not sure how wet he really is, but he can hear the faint slick sound of it as Jeff plays with him, gently coaxing him into producing more. This is nothing like during a heat, and not just because it’s lacking the unbridled desire to roll onto his belly and present himself for the taking. He can enjoy this fully, presently, without worrying about curbing his loudness or if he’s being too much.

He feels so good. Maybe it’s mind over matter but there’s a difference between this and lube that comes from a bottle or tube. Smoother, stickier, but in the best way. If he tries hard enough, he can smell the sweetness that’s starting to permeate the air around them.

“Inside,” Harry says. “Fingers, inside. Please.”

Jeff kisses the corner of his mouth, the rise of his cheekbone, the soft underpart of his ear — presses of his lips that have Harry nearly turning to goo — and gives him what he asks for.

There’s less preamble than Harry’s approach with Jeff’s body; Jeff knows what he can handle, so he sinks in as far as he can go right away, but not too quickly, letting the muscles of Harry’s insides guide him naturally, clutching and releasing at perfectly timed intervals that are completely out of Harry’s conscious control.

“God, you feel good,” Jeff murmurs.

Harry settles himself more firmly onto Jeff’s finger, giving a squeeze for good measure.

“Tight?” Harry asks.

“Yeah.” Jeff crooks his finger slightly.

“Like,” Harry pauses, breathing heavy, “ _Before_ tight or just tight tight?”

Silence fills up the room, neither of them moving an inch.

Until Jeff lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Harry…”

Harry forces Jeff to look at him, softening his intense stare with a quick peck on the cheek. “It’s a genuine question.”

“And I genuinely don’t know how to answer it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know! It feels —” He wiggles his finger experimentally, making Harry try and fail to suppress a shiver. “It feels, like, regular-ass-tight. A totally normal butthole. You’re in the clear.”

A hysterical laugh bubbles out of Harry’s throat at Jeff’s crudeness. “Oh my god,” he whispers.

Jeff’s whole face is pink, and it’s likely no longer from arousal alone. “Happy?”

Harry feels a bit silly now, if he’s honest. He doesn’t know why he always does this, turns a good time awkward because he can’t just keep his mouth shut. He chews on his lip for a moment. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Great. Can I add a second finger or do I need to submit a formal review first?”

Harry circles his hips and sniffs haughtily — or at least as haughtily as one can while someone is rubbing distractingly at your prostate. “That won’t be necessary. Carry on, please.”

Jeff adds a second finger that has Harry scratching at the pillow next to either side of Jeff’s head. Then a third that makes him cry out loudly enough that he freezes and worries for a moment, before he remembers that the babies aren’t down the hall and he can make as much noise as he wants. Which he takes full advantage of, bouncing on Jeff’s hand and causing a ruckus, dripping slick onto Jeff’s palm and entire lower body.

A delighted smile has taken up permanent residence on Jeff’s face, his brown eyes nearly all pupil and hungry-looking as they flit from spot to spot on Harry’s body, never staying in one spot for too long. But he evidently has a goal in mind, as his eyes linger on Harry’s chest. In a moment of decision, he sits up and steadies them, wrapping his free arm around Harry and keeping him close, so they’re nearly flush together.

When his lips wrap around Harry’s nipple, Harry lets out his loudest sound yet, hands flying to Jeff’s head and gripping his hair, unsure if he wants to keep him there forever or push him away, the sensation somehow not enough despite how sensitive he is.  

It’s being tickled all over again. His brain is firing on overdrive, neurons going haywire as Jeff sucks and swirls his tongue. It hurts, in a way. But it also feels inexorably _good_ . The latter confuses him more and makes him feel like maybe he shouldn’t enjoy it, because it’s almost too similar to _something else_ that he can’t make himself think about right now.

Incognito browsing sessions and various forums have told him that it’s perfectly fine and natural, as long as both parties involved want it and are okay with it. He’s thought about it a fair amount, as something the he loved before and during his pregnancy, and thought that he might still love after. But the boys are still only five months old, and while Eli is on the bottle, Jude is… not. It’s mildly troubling, the way he can’t seem to keep down the moans he’s letting out, because Jeff has moved to his other side now, but is keeping Harry’s already spit-wet nipple pinched firmly between his pointer finger and thumb.

“ _God_ , I—” Harry grunts, still rolling his hips against Jeff’s hand.

Jeff pauses, his warm breath tickling Harry’s skin. “Good?”

Internal struggle aside, Harry finds himself nodding enthusiastically.

After a couple more minutes, Harry feels like he’s going to explode. His chest is swollen and covered in drool, Jeff deciding halfway through that he wanted to be sloppy, smatterings of teeth marks indenting his skin here and there. Harry releases the hold he had on Jeff’s hair and strokes over his cheeks, touching their foreheads together.

“Fuck me,” he whispers

“Just like this?” Jeff gestures to their position.

“Just like this.”

It doesn’t take much maneuvering to get Harry off of Jeff’s fingers and onto his cock. The stretch is a bit much after months and months of going without it, but neither of them wanted to rush this. Not when Harry was still sore and uncomfortable, and not when he simply just wasn’t up for it. The resulting wait has made this moment even sweeter.

Jeff would make fun of him if Harry admitted it, but it feels an awful lot like coming home. Not that sex like this is the end-all — handjobs and blow jobs and everything in between are just as nice — but this particular type of intimacy has been deeply missed without Harry even realizing it. He gets too caught up in his own head sometimes, worrying about how his body looks, being too tired to do anything more than curl up in bed to sleep, agonizing over whether Jeff is still really attracted to him, that they won’t click as well anymore.

This is making all of those things seems so distant and minuscule. Jeff is mumbling nonsense praise words into his ear, keeping a steady hand on Harry’s lower back while he thrusts up to meet Harry in the middle. They’re a bit out of practice, and it takes them a few tries to land on something that works, but when they get it, they _get it_.

Harry keeps his arms wrapped around Jeff’s neck, scratching his blunt nails over any skin that he can reach when Jeff’s cock bumps up against that spot inside him.

The way they’re positioned means that there’s not a lot of room to move, but the depth and friction are spectacular. They’re close enough that Harry’s cock can rub up against Jeff’s stomach and get it wet with precome, really adding to the mess of his fluids that are covering them both. When Harry presses their chests together, he can feel both of their hearts beating against their ribs, a rapid pulse like two drums egging them on to finish.

Everything so far has built up to this moment, the extended foreplay that wound them both up to the point of no return. Neither of them could have foresaw this outcome, but maybe it was always meant to happen all the same. Maybe deep down they both knew that they wanted this, needed this.

They’re both moaning now. Harry has given up all pretense of being in control of his own faculties and is relying on Jeff to help lift and move his hips for him.

“Just — can you stay up on your knees a bit? Yeah, like that.”

It’s the least Harry can do, leaning his upper body heavily on Jeff so he can keep his hips raised, giving Jeff the room and freedom to thrust up with just enough force to send Harry hurtling to the edge.

He clings with every bit of strength he has left, a constant stream of whimpers and whines leaving his throat as Jeff picks up speed, hips meeting Harry’s ass with audible slaps.

Then the wire in his lower belly is cut. He’s sent plummeting into mindlessness while he rolls his body and wrings out every last drop of pleasure it has to offer, shuddering through his orgasm, limbs spasming and releasing erratically as his voice cuts out. He releases all of his breath in a rush, cock jumping between his and Jeff’s bodies, making an even grander mess, while he feels a different release around Jeff’s cock, things suddenly and somehow wetter than before.

He’s already flushed all the way down to his neck but if it were possible, he’d turn even more red. He’s shaking now, still holding onto Jeff’s neck, body near useless where Jeff is still thrusting into him, chasing his own finish.

Just as he starts to turn the corner of too over-sensitive, Jeff grunts and pulls out quickly, spattering warm stickiness all up Harry’s lower back, the last few pulses landing on his cheeks and in his crack. Harry can feel his hand bumping up against his own ass as Jeff keeps jerking himself through the last of it, before he presses the head into the crease where cheek meets thigh, sighing against Harry’s neck.

Harry is too boneless to move and too satisfied to think about anything other than basking in his glow, but he forces himself to roll off of Jeff before they become surgically attached via come-glue.

On his back and staring at the ceiling, he works on regaining control of his breathing, but not before reaching a hand out to grab one of Jeff’s, intertwining their clammy hands.

“Shower was a bit useless,” Jeff blurts.

Harry turns his head to smile at him. “A bit.”

“I would get a washcloth but I honestly don’t think I can move.”

“I’ll get one in a second. God, I feel like I went swimming, but like, in a swamp or something.”

“Explains the gills. You’ve always given off swamp creature vibes.”

“I can’t believe I just had sex with you.”

Jeff squeezes his hand. “If it makes you feel better, you’re a really sexy swamp monster.”

Harry blames the post-orgasm chemicals pickling his brain right now for the fit of giggling that takes over him. Jeff joins him and pulls Harry closer to his side, even though they’re both still too warm and slightly sweaty, but it’s nice nonetheless.

They can wash up and deal with the sheets later. The romcom is still playing quietly on the TV, but Harry doesn’t feel inclined in the least to pay attention. His focus is on kissing Jeff’s jaw, inching his way over until he finally reaches his mouth, keeping it sweet and chaste.

“Happy?” Jeff asks, patting Harry’s hip gently.

Harry rests his head on Jeff’s chest. “Over the fucking moon.”


End file.
